Hold On My People
by MegElemental
Summary: Based on the Lion King story, Camelot falls and Arthur is the one true heir to the throne. But during his years away from the pomp of Camelot, will he become a better person? Arwen, M/M. Some violence. New and improved!


**Now new and improved with an extra scene. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

**Hold On My People**

"_The storm was really giving it everything it had. This was its big chance. It had spent years hanging around the provinces, putting in some useful work as a squall, building up experience, making contacts, occasionally leaping out at unsuspecting shepherds or blasting quite small oak trees. Now an opening in the weather had given it an opportunity to strut its hour, and it was building up its role in the hope of being spotted by one of the big climates. It was a good storm. There was quite effective projection and passion there, and critics agreed that if it would only learn to control its thunder it would be, in the years to come, a storm to watch._

_On nights such as this, evil deeds are done. And good deeds, of course. But mostly evil, on the whole."_

_Terry Pratchett_

_Wyrd Sisters_

There was very little shelter to be had on a night such as this. The driving rain was almost strong enough to be painful, and the group of bandits huddled under the shells of buildings, trying vainly to keep dry and warm. But it was the type of rain that got you wet if you looked at it, so they were not very successful.

There were quite a few of them, too, so there was no more space to be had. All the good places were taken by the quick and sharp, and the not quite so quick had to huddle under a sodden cloak and a bit of crumbling roof. Those with magic were failing to light a fire. Even sorcery refused to work in those conditions, but then, it had to be said, they were not the best sorcerers.

The generally unhappy atmosphere led to some grumbling and moaning amongst the bandits, which eventually turned out to be full-volume brawls. All of which stopped abruptly when the huge black horse thundered down the path.

The man on the black horse was also wearing black, which at first made him invisible in the dark night. But as he pulled his mount to a stop and the huge hooves skidded against the soggy floor, the bandits fell silent and the rain took advantage of the quiet and hammered down upon any surface it could reach. A second man on a slightly smaller, slightly less impressive horse cantered up behind the man and conjured a ball of light. Around it rain hissed and turned into steam, and the pale green glow lit their faces. The first man was tall, with a small moustache and beard, both black, with a sharp, pointed face and a cruel slash of a mouth. He looked around imperiously at the cowering bandits, rain running off his face in rivulets.

'Listen to me!' he boomed, using a magically-enhanced voice, quite unnecessarily. They were all listening anyway.

'My name is Erasmus Murune. I have come to seek your help, my good men, in righting a past wrong.' The bandits all muttered among each other. Good men?

'Thirty years ago, my rightful place as king was taken by one you all know. His name is Uther Pendragon. This foul villain…' here he got a few cheers, 'took my Throne and passed it off as his own. Help me regain my kingdom!

'Prepare for the chance of a lifetime! A new era is coming closer, and when I am at last given my dues and justice is squared, you will all be rewarded!'

This was met with a huge uproar of cheers. The bandits were glad to have something to do, and although this man sounded a bit dodgy, they were always up for a bit of fighting and pillaging when there was the promise of gold at the end.

'Of course, you're expected to take certain duties on board.' He drew his hand across his throat, and this was met by more cheers.

'Are you with me?' he shouted, and they all stood up, banging their swords and cheering. Erasmus Murune turned to his companion.

'Bandits are crude, but they are essential,' he said, as the man smoothed down his wet cloak. 'The future is littered with prizes, Gethed,' he said, 'and though I'm the main addressee, I will make sure you are given something for your services.'

'Thank you, master,' said Gethed, nervously.

'We march on Camelot the day after tomorrow! Prepare for the Coup of the century!' Erasmus shouted, and the bandits cheered once again.

'This was too easy,' he muttered to Gethed, who remained wisely silent. 'Soon I shall be king, and after decades of denial I will be finally recognized for what I was supposed to be all along.'

Far away, in a sumptuous palace room, the Lady Morgana woke up suddenly, sweating, her dreams having returned once more in full force. With trepidation, she turned her head to look out her window. It was being spattered with the first drops of rain.

***

Merlin was woken by a loud knocking that seemed to echo painfully around his head. Groaning, he hoisted himself out of his small bed and, massaging his head, he stumbled out his room, tripped down the steps, and passed a snoring Gaius to answer the door. He could have sworn the old man was making him get it on purpose.

'Yes?' he said sleepily, opening the door slightly. The sight of Morgana, wild-eyed and pale-faced, made him open the door wider and usher her inside.

'Morgana?' Gaius asked, suddenly wide awake. Merlin rolled his eyes.

'I had… another dream,' she stuttered, looking around jerkily.

'What was it about?' asked Gaius in his usual blunt way.

'A man was raising bandits against Camelot. There was a storm. They're going to attack Camelot…' Morgana turned to look out the window. The rain was now sheeting down.

'What was the name of this man?' Gaius asked, unruffled.

'Erasmus… Erasmus Murune,' she said. 'But…'

'It was just a dream Morgana,' Gaius said soothingly. 'Take this sleeping draught,' he handed her a green bottle, 'and try and get some sleep.'

'But... what I saw!' she said, standing up. 'I know my dreams have some meaning, Gaius! What I see always seems to come true! How can you just…'

'You are tired, my lady,' said Merlin. 'Don't get worked up over nothing. You are tired and everything seems worse.'

'You are right as usual, Merlin,' she said, looking at him strangely. 'I will go back to bed then. Goodnight.' And with that, she stormed off, her skirts swishing behind her. Merlin watched her retreating back.

'Why can't you just tell her, Gaius,' he moaned when she was out of earshot. 'She's already guessed.'

'We must keep her safe,' Gaius said. 'For now, we must worry about Erasmus Murune.'

'Who is he?' Merlin asked, curious.

'The Murune family have long sought to rule Camelot. They believe they are of direct line to some of the ancient Kings and Queens, and that their line are the rightful heirs. Erasmus kicked up a fuss when Uther was crowned, saying that he had less of a claim than himself. He was banished, seemingly never to return.' Gaius sat down heavily.

'It sounds like he has,' Merlin said.

'And he is raising an army of bandits to fight against Uther,' Gaius said. 'They will be the Bruswick Bandits. The most feared and bloodthirsty in all of Albion.'

'Great,' said Merlin, dropping into a chair. 'That's something to look forward to.'

'We need to find a way to warn Uther without involving Morgana,' Gaius said. 'Before it's too late.'

They both turned to look out the window, where a storm was brewing in the dark sky.

'Leave that to me,' Merlin said, confidently.

****

'Come on Merlin,' the prince said, exasperated, as Merlin once again trailed behind, tripping over twigs and his own feet.

'If you would just… help me carry…' the boy puffed, his arms full of various hunting equipment.

'My job is to hunt, your job is to carry my things,' Arthur said, as though explaining to a child. 'And you can't even do that.' Merlin ignored the jibe, and glanced around. Seeing his chance, he pointed behind Arthur.

'Look!' Arthur turned, and Merlin quickly looked down into the clearing below and his eyes flashed. Arthur turned back.

'There's nothing there, Merlin. What was that for?'

'I thought I saw… something,' Merlin said lamely. Arthur gave him a look that said all it needed to. Merlin crossed his fingers, his toes, and his arms, under all of Arthur's stuff, and to his relief, Arthur noticed.

'Wait…' he said, holding up a hand and staring at something behind Merlin. He held up a hand to his mouth and crept off, holding his sword. On reaching a bush, he peered down into the valley clearing below and saw… a camp, full of men sharpening swords, obviously preparing for battle.

'What the…' said the prince. Unnoticed by him, Merlin's eyes flashed once more. A man emerged from a tent, close to where they were hiding.

'Hurry up!' He said, kicking a nearby worker. 'We're marching on Camelot tomorrow- at this rate we'll never be ready.'

Arthur gasped quietly, and quickly backed away.

'We must go back and warn father,' he said, and strode off. Merlin followed, after quickly looking at the camp. Or, where the camp had been before it disappeared into smoke and drifted off into the air. Even if he said so himself, that had been a pretty impressive bit of magic. It had certainly fooled Arthur.

They hotfooted it back to Camelot where Arthur was granted immediate audience with King Uther. Merlin hovered in the background, trying to look inconspicuous.

'How many were there?' Uther asked, leaning forward on his throne, looking worried.

'From where I was looking, a hundred men, maybe more,' Arthur replied. Merlin reflected once again on his brilliance.

'And they are planning to attack tomorrow you say?' Uther asked, his eyes narrowing.

'Yes my lord,' Arthur replied smartly. Morgana gave a little gasp; one completely misunderstood by the King.

'Do not worry Morgana; these bandits will be no match for the Knights of Camelot, despite their numbers.' But Merlin caught the Lady's eye and knew what she was thinking- her dream had been correct. And she knew he knew it too. And he knew she knew he knew… and he was confusing himself.

'Sound the alarm,' Uther ordered. 'Prepare the Knights. We must be ready.' Arthur bowed, and left. Morgana stood up, wavered slightly, before breaking eye contact with Merlin and hurrying off, Gwen trotting obediently behind her.

'We must evacuate the lower town,' Arthur rattled off to his knights when they all met in the courtyard. 'Get the women and children up to the castle- give all the men something to defend themselves with and close the castle gates. We must protect the people.' Merlin swelled with pride at these words. Gwen was really good for Arthur.

Merlin knew about their love. He saw all the sidelong glances, read all the notes, but knew that Arthur would never take it further. And it annoyed him. But what could he do? He wished he could solve his friends' problems, but he had enough of his own to be going along with.

'Get my armour ready, Merlin,' Arthur said, breaking his reverie. 'And get yourself some and a weapon too. You need to be able to protect yourself.'

Merlin would rather not carry a useless heavy sword. He knew he would be able to keep himself safe. But he had to have it for show.

'Yes sire,' he said, hurrying off. There was very little time.

***

The castle felt a lot smaller with the entire lower town crammed into it. The women and children were large-eyed and silent as tomorrow dawned, ears craning to hear the sounds of the arriving army. Not a sound came from the silent crowds, waiting in silent foreboding. Arthur stood on the battlements, seemingly unaware of the driving rain, looking down as the torchlights grew ever closer.

'Isn't it funny how the weather always seems to copy the mood,' Merlin said, trying to be cheerful and failing miserably.

'Shut up, Merlin.'

Merlin felt, and knew he looked, ridiculous in chainmail, so he had opted for his normal attire. Arthur had frowned, but said nothing.

'What's the plan?' Merlin asked, his teeth chattering slightly in the cold wind and rain.

'We wait until they are trying to storm the castle walls, and we fire arrows and tip hot oil on them,' Arthur said. 'Then we go out and kill the remainder.'

'Got it,' Merlin chattered, his teeth seeming to have their own ideas. He could tell their constant jittering was annoying Arthur, but he could do little to stop it. At least he wasn't slowly rusting.

But Arthur frowned, looking down at the advancing torches.

'How are they staying alight in this rain?' he asked, confused. Knights everywhere shrugged their shoulders, chainmail clinking. But Merlin stood absolutely still. There, in the corner of his mind, he could sense it. Magic. They had a sorcerer with them. And that made everything a whole lot more complicated.

The torches drew nearer and Arthur frowned again, and then his face showed complete shock and fear. There were the torches, burning brightly in the heavy rain, but_ no one was holding them. _Two men stood in the forest of fire, and even from the distance Merlin could see the smirks on their faces.

'It must be a trick,' he said, throwing his hands up to his head. Then one of the figures moved. The smaller of the two raised a hand, ever so slowly, and in the torchlight Merlin saw his mouth move, his eyes flash.

'Oh no,' he murmured. A huge crash startled everyone on the battlements- they all raced to the other side to look down into the castle courtyard. A crack had appeared in it, running diagonally across.

'This is not good,' Merlin moaned, as with another tremendous crash, the huge golden dragon shot out of the stone rubble, showering them with rocks and debris, as he flapped his great wings.

Arthur swore. The dragon flew up towards them and hovered, looking at Merlin with one great eye.

'My time for freedom has come!' It cried joyously, sneering down at them. 'No thanks to you, young warlock.'

'Run!' Merlin yelled and the Knights needed no encouragement- all of them fled to the castle doors on the battlements just as the dragon opened his gaping maw and a leaping flame devoured the stone, turning it to a molten river than poured towards the two men standing outside the castle walls, in the lower town. The sorcerer held up a hand and halted the flow, creating a ramp up to the castle, up which bandits appearing from nowhere flowed as the dragon flew up, up into the sky, letting loose other flame bursts as it revelled in its freedom.

Arthur closed the great doors with a bang.

'Right,' he said briskly, 'change of plan; defend the castle. Man every entrance –keep the citizens safe!' The knights left, cloaks flapping behind them, leaving a few by the large double doors, which began to shake and tremor. Arthur stood strong, Merlin beside him, as they watched the doors buckle.

'That dragon,' Arthur said, 'did it know you?'

'Errr,' said Merlin, but he was saved answering by the arrival of the King in full fighting gear, closely followed by Morgana and Gwen, dressed in trousers and carrying swords. Gaius hurried behind them, bringing up the rear.

'The dragon escaped,' Uther said.

'Yes.'

'They have a sorcerer with them?'

'Yes.'

'Then god save us all,' Uther said, turning to face the trembling door with a grim determination worn by those with no hope.

Not thinking that was a particularly good moral boost, Merlin readied himself to fight the only way he knew how. If he could save Camelot with his magic, then he would. Even if he would be revealed in front of the whole city. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Uther.

'Look after Arthur,' said the king in a low voice. Merlin glanced at the prince, who had his gaze locked on the door. 'He is Camelot's only hope. He must survive, to rule when I am gone. Keep him alive for me, boy.' Merlin nodded, solemnly.

'I give you my word.' The King looked more at ease, at peace with himself.

'Then I am prepared to die for Camelot.' Uther turned back to face the door, resigning himself to his fate. Merlin cocked his head, confused. Perhaps he wasn't such a bad king after all.

With a final, deafening crack the doors gave up, and wood flew everywhere. Arthur, who had just realized the presence of Gwen and Morgana, threw them a horror-struck look and moved in front of them slightly. Splinters rained down on their heads and Merlin ducked, holding up his hands. And that was when the bandits flooded in.

_Get the sorcerer, _Merlin thought to himself, as he dove through the crowds of fighting men, searching for the small, slight figure that had stood in front of the castle and released the dragon. _Find the sorcerer, and then Arthur will have more of a chance._

He found himself using his sword to block attacks, but was soon discovered to be an awful fighter and was ganged up on by five men. Merlin stepped away, finding himself back to back with another. It was Uther.

'Is Arthur safe?' The king panted, in between expert swings. Merlin glanced over at the prince, who was making sure Gwen had very little to do.

'He's… fine,' Merlin gasped, the exertion draining his strength. Oh, how he longed to just hold up a hand and blast them all away. This continued for a few minutes, until Merlin felt the King shudder and slump onto him. Eyes wide with shock and pain, Uther fell to the floor, giving Merlin one last, pain filled gaze.

'Save… Arthur,' he gasped, before collapsing. Merlin found himself angrier than he expected at the death of the King. Uther had caused suffering, but he had only done what he thought would keep Camelot safe.

'Nooo!' Came the yell from the other side of the destroyed hall, as Arthur caught sight of his manservant standing over the dead King, tears streaking down his face. But Merlin was not sad enough to miss the men sneaking up on Arthur, their blades out and ready to strike…

Gwen's yell came too late. Arthur had no time to turn and fight them off. He swung around anyway, but Morgana had already dispatched them, with one fell swoop of her blade.

'No need to say thanks,' she said, before running off to kill some more. Arthur, leaving Gwen in Morgana's capable hands, fought his way over to Merlin, who was swinging his sword ineffectually against two bandits.

'Honestly, how have you managed to stay alive for this long?' the prince asked, giving him a helping hand. For a while it seemed as though they might be winning. But then a fresh wave of bandits poured through the broken doors and others appeared from inside the castle, and they were slowly but surely pressed against the wall. Soon, Arthur and Merlin were cornered, surrounded by at least ten leering bandits.

'Get behind me, Arthur,' Merlin said, his normally cheerful voice dark and authoritative.

'Don't be stu…' said Arthur, but Merlin turned on him.

'I said get behind me!' Arthur was speechless, but Merlin ignored his gobsmacked master as he turned to the bandits.

'You picked the wrong person to mess with,' he said, shaking his head.

'Merlin, what…' But Arthur broke off once again. Merlin held out his hands and his eyes shone an unearthly gold, and the men surrounding them were flung bodily back, eyes wide in confusion and pain. They hit the far wall with a sickening crack, and Arthur turned to Merlin, but his eyes were shining again and the men surrounding Gwen were blown away, the ones near Morgana turned to dust.

Arthur, for the first time in his life, was truly scared of his manservant. Merlin was surrounded in a crackling energy that fizzed around him, his eyes permanently gold as he fought back the tide of men.

'Arthur, run,' he said, glancing sideways. Arthur was still staring in amazement at him.

'What? I can't abandon Came…'

'I promised your father I'd protect you, and you must flee!' Merlin said, sounding very unlike his usual self. Arthur didn't like the change.

'I cannot leave,' he said, strongly.

'Arthur, RUN!' Merlin said, in a voice so terrible that everyone who heard shuddered, directing his power towards the prince who suddenly found that his legs were moving of their own accord, that he was running but not through his consent.

Those trying to attack him were flung away by unseen hands, and he was propelled across the hall towards the open doors. He glanced back, shooting daggers at Merlin, trying to dig his heels in and stay but his own legs were deceiving him, making him run on…

As he looked back at Merlin, surrounded by energy and magic, he saw the other Sorcerer draw a sword from behind him that Merlin, intent on making sure Arthur was safe, had not seen. Arthur yelled, but too late. The steel had sunk into Merlin's back, driven through his thin body, and he fell as Morgana, Gaius and Gwen rushed towards him… And then the scene disappeared as the spell Merlin had cast carried Arthur off out into the woods, far, far away…

He didn't know how long he ran. The terrible scene replayed again and again in his mind, torturing him over and over until he screamed at the pain. At one point he could hear running feet and shouting behind him, but that soon died away as the spell carried him into another kingdom, and then another. The spell didn't wear off for two days, and Arthur could not feel the tiredness.

Then, suddenly, in the middle of thick forest, the spell stopped. The feeling of his legs came back and overwhelming fatigue made him stumble and swerve. He tripped on a log and fell, seeing Merlin's face as he headed towards the ground, the look of pain in his eyes, his father's body, and then his head hit a rock and he knew no more.

-----

Merlin felt the cold steel slide through his chest before he felt the excruciating pain that it brought. As he fell, the magic around him twisting and vanishing, he saw the other sorcerer standing over him.

_I knew I should have killed him, _he thought hazily, his vision red. As the world started to go black he saw two shadows leaning over him, and the clanging of steel as though it came from very far away. There was a cry of pain and running footsteps; a third shadow appeared in his sight.

'We need to take the sword out,' said Gaius' voice.

'I thought that was the worst thing to do?' Gwen sniffled.

'It's missed all his vital organs, and is just causing him pain. Whoever dealt the blow was not an experienced swordsman.'

'It was the sorcerer,' Morgana said. 'I just wounded him. He ran off somewhere.' Lily-white hands, spattered with blood, wrapped themselves around the hilt of the sword sticking out of Merlin's chest and yanked it out in one swift moment. Merlin cried out in pain, his thin body bucking, but hands were soon on the wound, tending it gently.

'He'll be alright,' Gaius reassured the two girls. 'But where's Arthur?'

'I… sent him away,' Merlin choked.

'He's safe?' Gwen said anxiously. Merlin had no strength left to speak again- instead he nodded, and even that made him feel faint.

'We need to get him and the rest of the wounded back to my chambers,' Gaius said, but his orders were cut across by a loud, booming voice that could be heard all throughout Camelot.

'You have been defeated. Your King is dead, and most of your warriors. Your Prince fled the city to save his own life, and left you alone. I, Erasmus Murune, am now your king! Magic is legal once more, and I will lead Camelot into a new, prosperous age!

'Tend to your wounded; but leave the bodies of the dead for a mass burning tomorrow, to signify the purging of the old and the rebirth of the new, out of the fire!'

Gaius looked solemnly around the hall, littered with bodies.

'I guess we know where the sorcerer ran off to now,' Morgana said.

'Leave the dead,' a harsh voice came from behind them; the bandits were coming to collect the bodies.

'He's not dead!' Morgana hissed, brandishing her sword. She was laughed at by the bandit.

'Leave him,' he said coarsely. 'He's done for.'

'We're not leaving him when he still has a chance,' Morgana hissed back, and the bandit laughed.

'Fine, take him. He won't last long.' They hurried Merlin's limp body back to Gaius' chambers, which was full to bursting with the wounded.

'Things are going to change around here, aren't they,' Gwen whispered to Morgana. She nodded.

Things did change. Merlin was forced to wear handcuffs that inhibited his magic, and Morgana tried to use her's to get them off, but to no avail. The sorcerer, Gethed, was just too powerful.

Then a week later, the group sent out to hunt down and kill Arthur said they had returned victorious. Merlin had retreated into himself for days and seemed to have given up on life; his wound became infected and he fell dangerously ill. Morgana stayed with him, and he taught her magic in secret, not wanting her to be seen as a threat to Gethed.

Morgana lost her status and her soft, smooth hands soon became as rough and worn as Gwen's. Life was hard; Erasmus Murune had no knowledge of being a king and running a country and soon there were food shortages all round. The weak died, which meant more work for those left. Murune was also a harsh punisher, and almost everyone had had their fair share of lashings for displeasing their king.

'Will we ever get back to the Camelot we had before?' Gwen asked sadly one night, as she and Morgana lay on the floor in Gaius' chambers, Gwen's house and Morgana's room having been taken over by the bandits.

'I don't know Gwen,' Morgana said sadly. 'I just don't know.'

_**Two years later…**_

Charlie leant on his spade, enjoying the warmth of the sun against his bare skin. It was a hot day; the hottest of the year so far, according to Pa Michael. This had become more noticeable when he'd had to start digging the trench ready for the new barn that the Rowan's had saved up for.

He reached up and smoothed back his blonde hair, which had flopped in his face. Two girls sitting on the fence nearby giggled and he smiled to himself, before plunging back into his work.

He'd worked for the Rowans, on their small, but relatively prosperous farm, for two years now. They'd found him, close to death, in the forest that surrounded their home, and he had woken up in their warm kitchen with the whole family surrounding him. Apparently he'd fallen and hit his head; he had no memory of any life before waking up at the Rowans. And he liked his new life.

There were quite a few Rowans. There was Pa Michael, Ma Hannah, who had had four boys, the oldest maybe a few years older than Charlie. His name was Ollie, and he'd gone to become a knight at the castle of King Kiluch. The next was the same age as Charlie, Thomas, and had stayed at the farm. Then there was young Michael, and the twins; Jack and the youngest and only girl, Finnea. Finnea had been Charlie's nurse, and had become like a sister to him. It was she who suggested the name Charlie, and he had agreed that it was a nice name. Although he had a strange feeling his old name was something quite different.

He had become part of the family, and he worked on the farm first to pay off their tender care, and then because it became his home. He thought that even if he remembered his past life, he wouldn't go back.

'Charlie! Charlie!' Finnea came running up the hill path to the field in which he worked, her straw-coloured hair flying about her grubby face, her blue eyes shining like jewels.

'What is it, Finna?' he asked, holding out his arms, catching her and spinning her around.

'Ollie's back! Ollie's come back!' She said happily, and Charlie smiled.

'That's good,' he said, grinning down at the 8-year-old's excited face.

'He's got a sword and _everything_!' she said, her eyes as wide as saucers. 'Come and see.' She took his hand in her small one and led him down the hill. The two village girls sighed and went back to their homes, which pleased Charlie. He didn't really like them watching him. Not that he could send them away, of course. They weren't doing any harm.

They ran into the small yard, around which hens pecked and clucked. The washing was hung up in the corner, and the entire family was standing around, watching Ollie pretend to spar with Thomas, both of them using broom handles.

'You still here, then?' Ollie called, as he caught sight of Charlie. He grinned.

'Of course.' They shared a manly hug for a few seconds, before drawing back.

'Fancy a spar?' Ollie asked. Charlie looked at the proffered handle with apprehension.

'I don't think I've ever done it before,' he said, taking it slowly.

'Give it a try,' Ollie said, taking a fighting stance. Charlie copied him, and found it strangely… familiar.

'Just try and block my strike by bringing it up, like this,' Ollie said, demonstrating, and then he struck out. Charlie found himself able to defend himself, surprisingly easily. He watched himself, astounded, as he then struck out at Ollie and disarmed him, ending with his staff at his throat, all in a few swift movements. The whole courtyard seemed to stare.

'Sorry,' Charlie said, dropping the staff as though it burned him and stepping back, hurriedly. 'I didn't know… how did I …' He glanced at Ma and Pa, who had resigned looks on their faces. The rest of the family treated him strangely; even Finnea seemed to be scared of him.

'Finna,' he said, kneeling down in front of her, after she'd ran from the room he'd been in for the third time. 'I'm sorry. I'm still Charlie, though. I'm still the same old me. Remember your Christmas present last year?' She sniffed and nodded. He'd attempted to make a rag doll using some scrap fabric from the discard bin of clothes. It hadn't really worked out; he'd refused help from Ma, wanting it to be his special present to Finnea. Finnea had love the misshapen thing anyway, and slept with it in her arms every night, which gave Charlie a warm glow near his heart. She'd named it Raggedy, which, although not very original, suited it.

'You just looked… so scary,' she said.

'I don't know how I did it,' he said truthfully, 'but I'll tell you as soon as I know.'

'Promise?' she asked.

'I promise,' he said.

That night, when everyone was in bed, and Charlie had got up to got to the outside toilet, he was intercepted by Pa Michael.

'We need to show you something,' he whispered, and he led the way to his and Ma's room with a flickering candle. Ma was waiting inside, and she hugged Charlie before opening the ornately carved chest in the corner of the room. Charlie had always wondered what was inside this chest, along with the rest of the children, and he found he was holding his breath as the lid creaked open.

Inside, illuminated by the flickering candlelight, lay a glittering sword, lying on shining armour and a red cloak with a dragon emblem.

'We found these on you, in the forest,' Ma said. 'We think you were a knight, of a distant land. We didn't want to tell you, in case…' She didn't have to say any more. Charlie knew they hadn't wanted to trigger his memories, just in case he had been a … bad knight. The kind that looted farms and took money, violated wives and daughters, killed husbands and sons.

Seeing these objects, which had belonged to the old Charlie, as he called him, didn't bring back memories. He lifted the sword carefully in his hands, shifting the grip. It felt natural, and he remembered seeing it in his hand before, but nothing other than that sprang into his mind. He put the sword down and stroked the dragon emblem, feeling the expensive threads underneath his calloused fingers.

'Do you remember?' Pa asked, carefully. Charlie sighed, and stood up.

'No,' he said. 'And I hope I never do.'

A few months passed, and although life returned to normal after Ollie went back to King Kiluch's castle to complete his training, Charlie couldn't forget the contents of the chest. It occupied his thoughts and took over his mind until he couldn't think of anything else.

He spent a lot of time wandering on his own in the forest, trying to remember, just so he could get on with his life. It was on one of these fateful wanderings that he heard the scream.

Charlie knew there were bandits in these woods; they weren't the best or brightest bunch and were easily chased away, but they caused their fair share of trouble.

Charlie rushed into the clearing and hit the first bandit over the head before he had a chance to turn. Snatching up his sword, he fought off the other three on autopilot, amazed at what his body was doing and quite unable to control it. Once the last bandit had run away he stopped and dropped the sword quickly, turning to the woman who lay on the floor with her hands over her face.

'Are you alright?' He asked, gently, edging closer. The woman, or girl, he saw now, turned over, and her mouth dropped open. Charlie winced at the sight of her. Her dusky skin was mottled with bruises, and she had a bad cut across one eyebrow. These wounds were not recent; it had not been the bandits. Her feet were bare; they were cut and bleeding freely.

'Are you ok?' he repeated, but the girl's face seemed too shocked to speak.

'Arthur?' she said faintly, her mouth barely opening. 'Is that… really you?' She made to get up, but fell back down. Charlie thought she might be delirious- she must have thought he was someone else, but he picked her up and carried her back to the farm. Along the way she fell unconscious.

Ma was in her element when Charlie appeared with the injured girl, and immediately set to work. She shooed Charlie out, and he waited outside with Finnea, playing a game of spy. Finally, after what seemed like an age, Ma opened the door.

'She's awake, and as well as I can make her at the moment,' she said, letting them in. 'Be quiet,' she told them, putting a finger to her mouth, but when they reached the kitchen table, which had served as a mock bed, the girl was fast asleep.

'You'll have to wait till tomorrow to speak to her, I'm afraid,' Ma said, and she told Charlie to carry her to the spare bed. He did so, and sat next to her, staring at her dark, curly hair, her brown skin and her ripped lavender dress. He couldn't shake the feeling that he knew her.

He woke up the next morning with an awful cricked neck. He sprang to attention, however, as he caught sight of the girl's dark brown eyes fixed on him, incredulously.

'I'm dreaming,' she whispered, sitting up gingerly and reaching out a hand to touch his face. 'You're supposed to be dead…' Charlie leaned away from her fingers.

'I'm sorry… do I know you?' he asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. She drew her hand back, startled.

'Arthur? It's me, Gwen. You know, Guinevere. I was Lady Morgana's maid. I thought you… you loved me.'

'I don't know you,' Charlie said, getting up and moving away, trying to deny the ring of truth he could sense in her words. 'My name's Charlie.' The girl, Gwen, sighed.

'You aren't Charlie,' she said, sadly. 'Though for your sake, I wish you were.'

'What do you mean?' He drew closer, despite his misgivings. Gwen took a deep breath and began.

'Your name is Arthur Pendragon. You're the son of Uther Pendragon, the late King of Camelot. You had a manservant called Merlin, and you had a step sister called Morgana. You're the crowned prince of Camelot, and I… I thought you… you and I…' she broke off.

'No I'm not,' he whispered. 'I'm not this man.'

'You are!' she said, crying now. 'You have to be! You are! You have to come back, to save us from Murune! Everyone's dying, we've had a famine two years in a row, the whole kingdom is collapsing, and only you can save us…'

'No,' he stepped back, shaking his head. 'I can't be. I'm Charlie.' He left the room, leaving the girl, Gwen, breaking down into tears.

'Charlie?' Finnea asked, as he rushed past her out into the yard, out the gate, past the fields, into the forest. There he reached a huge oak, and he sat in the hollow beneath it and cried, something he could never remember doing. Gwen's words had sounded true, he knew they were true, but he didn't want them to be. He wasn't this prince Arthur; he hadn't been for a long time.

When he calmed down, he started to think about what she had said. His manservant, Merlin, she had said. He laughed at the thought of himself having a manservant. Him! A poor farm labourer!

Merlin. The name brought a picture forward in his mind's eye. A lanky, black-haired boy with large ears and an even larger smile. Merlin, sitting on a horse, chatting to him. Merlin, covered in water, spluttering at him. Merlin, swinging a sword ineffectually against a horde of bandits… Merlin, surrounded by magic… Merlin, sinking to the floor, a sword through his chest…

He shook his head, as the memories came rushing back. Morgana, his sister in everything but blood. Morgana, with her long, ebony hair and pale features, Morgana dressed up to the nines at a ball. Morgana, dressed in men's clothes, holding a sword. Morgana, her face pale and scared as she clutched the druid boy, Mordred… Morgana, in nothing but a white dress, blood congealing on her forehead. Morgana, fighting the bandits…

Gwen. Gwen's face, Gwen's lips, Gwen's love…

He walked slowly back to the farmhouse, past the family working in the fields, who called out to him, past Ma in the Kitchen, past Finnea on the stairs, until he reached Ma and Pa's room. He went straight to the chest, and opened it in a swift movement. He reached for the sword, the chainmail, the armour, the cloak, the sword. His past life came rushing back, first as the smallest trickling stream, fighting it's way over boulders and rocks he himself had put there, but gradually growing in strength and becoming a huge wave, overflowing his mind.

Eventually he stood up and returned to the spare room. Finnea was sat near Gwen, and Ma had brought her a cup of broth, which she sipped gratefully. They all turned towards him as he entered.

'Arth… err, Charlie,' Gwen said, hesitantly. Arthur smiled.

'It's Arthur,' he said, walking over and hugging Finnea. 'Sorry Finna, but I've got my old name back now.' Finnea pouted.

'Can I still call you Charlie?' she asked.

'If you want,' he said, giving her a hug. 'I'll always be Charlie for you. But now, I'm Arthur too.'

'Arthur?' Gwen asked again. He turned to her, staring at her beautiful face, her wide eyes.

'It's me, Gwen,' he said, and he reached over and kissed her.

'Ow,' she said, leaning back slightly.

'What's the matter?' he asked, concerned.

'Nothing,' she said hastily, but he had already seen the raised sores down her back that the too-large dress showed off in all their awful glory.

'Them? Oh, they're nothing,' she smiled weakly. 'You should see Merlin's back.'

Ma bustled off to make lunch for the family, for when they came in hungry off the fields. Finnea was called away, much to her disapproval, and Gwen and Arthur were alone.

'What's happened?' he asked urgently, holding Gwen's shoulders.

'Erasmus Murune took over as King,' she said, sorrowfully. 'He sent a party out to kill you. They came back and told him you were dead.' She sniffed, but carried on. 'Merlin survived; barely. He almost died after the news of your death- he kept saying he'd failed his destiny, or something- but Morgana and Gaius managed to nurse him back to health.

'Erasmus Murune makes Uther look like the perfect King. Sorry,' she said, realising that Uther was Arthur's father, and was dead.

'Don't worry; keep going,' Arthur said, unable to believe what he was hearing.

'We all found it such a surprise that Merlin was a sorcerer; and he's a powerful one. You never would have guessed, from the outside. He has to wear these magic-inhibiting manacles all the time, which has made his wrists really weak, so he can't fight Gethed, Murune's sorcerer. So Murune has so much power now, and he punishes harshly. It's death for anything over stealing, and lashes for the slightest mistake. He can't run a kingdom- our crops have failed for two years in a row and he refuses to buy supplies from neighbouring kingdoms- he likes the treasury the way it is now. Full.

'Lots of people have died, which means more work for those left. Gaius is ill- we can't make him better, and without him, we have no hope.'

Arthur couldn't believe what happened to the once great Camelot.

'Why does Merlin have a lot of lashes?' he asked, horrified.

'Morgana is now a servant- she still hasn't got the hang of the work, and Merlin takes the blame for her as much as he can. And Murune wants her to marry him, and every time she refuses, he has Merlin thrashed.'

'Why?' he choked.

'Merlin and Morgana… they love each other, Arthur. Morgana wants to agree to marry Murune to stop Merlin's lashes, but he won't let her. He's so weak now.' Gwen started to cry, tears running down her cheeks.

'We can't fight back; we're too thin, too weak. I managed to escape; Morgana has magic too, but no as powerful as Merlin, and she helped me, so I could go to King Kiluch and get help. But I found you,' and Gwen looked up at him with such hope and trust his heart burst.

'But what can I do?' he asked, hopelessly. 'I can't defeat an army by myself.'

'You are the heir in line to the throne! You can get support from King Kiluch!' She said. Arthur nodded.

'We'll go tomorrow,' he said, determinedly.

He said a tearful goodbye to the Rowan's the next day, and was touched when they gave him a horse to travel on. Gwen rode behind him, and they set off to King Kiluch's castle. He dressed in the armour and cloak from the chest, which he knew was his battle gear, and felt more like himself. However, he was different; he was still Charlie, the poor farm labourer, and he knew Charlie would stay with him forever. Prince Arthur would never have dirtied his hands with farm work, slept in a bed as poor as Charlie's, but he had, and he was a better person for it.

They arrived at the castle just after lunch; Ollie greeted him with confusion.

'What're you doing here?' he asked, confused.

'It'd take too long to explain,' he whispered back. He strode up to a knight, Gwen trailing behind in a borrowed dress of Ma's which was slightly too big for her.

'I request an audience with King Kiluch,' he said, with a trace of his old pomp and arrogance. Gwen looked at him, with recognition in her eyes, but Ollie looked at him as though he had just sprouted two heads.

'And who would be requesting an audience?' The guard asked respectfully, noticing the crest on the cloak.

'Prince Arthur Pendragon, of Camelot,' he said, and the guards let him and Gwen through. Ollie's mouth dropped open in amazement.

King Kiluch listened quietly to their plight. He was a young, handsome king, with brown hair and dark, intelligent eyes. His wife, the beautiful Lady Olwen, listened quietly beside him.

Arthur had always prided himself a good speaker, and he pulled out all the stops, knowing that Kiluch's decision would decide the fate of Camelot. When he'd finished, he waited quietly for Kiluch's answer.

'You obviously care very deeply for your country,' he said thoughtfully.

'I care about the people who live in it more, your majesty,' he replied. 'And they are suffering.'

Kiluch appraised him silently.

'Very well,' he said, nodding. 'You may take all my knights, if you promise me one thing.'

Arthur nodded, thinking that anything was worth Camelot's freedom. Kiluch grinned.

'That when Camelot is free, we may become allies.' Arthur sighed, and grinned.

'I cannot think of anything I'd like more.'

It took a few days to mobilize Kiluch's army; Gwen found some men's clothes and a sword, and Arthur found himself being forced to bring her.

'I have some debts to pay,' she said, forcefully, and Arthur found himself scared by her vehemence.

They were about to set off when King Kiluch rode up on a midnight black horse.

'What?' he asked, casting a sideways grin at Arthur. 'You didn't think I'd let you have al the fun?' Arthur smiled. Olwen rode up beside Gwen.

'Let's go,' she said, and the women shared a conspiratorial glance. Arthur sighed, but pointed his sword to the horizon.

'Onward!' He yelled.

The horses all lurched forwards as one, and Arthur glanced behind him to see Ollie grinning widely. He smiled at his almost-brother, feeling glad his adoptive family were still behind him.

They reached the Darkling woods a day later. Arthur was shocked at the sight of Camelot from afar. The beautiful building was in ruins, smoke pouring from gaping hole left from the battle to claim it. The land surrounding it was barren and empty, good only for dust and dirt. Not for sustaining a kingdom.

The sky was a turmoil of clouds and storms, the cause of Gethed's disastrous magical experiments. Once across the boundary between kingdoms, the temperature dropped noticeably. No wildlife could be heard or seen, and the knights set up camp in dreary moods.

They settled down for the night, apprehension turning Arthur's stomach over. What would he see, inside his castle? Was it too far gone to be fixed? The door to his tent flapped; Gwen snuck in.

'Are you ok?' she asked softly.

'No,' he replied, truthfully. She rubbed his back and he drew her into a hug.

'I love you,' he said, quietly, and then he kissed her, for what felt like the first time in years. She responded, and they spent the night in each other's arms, dreading the dawn.

'The plan is to infiltrate silently,' Arthur explained to the many upturned faces. He was standing on a cart, planning their battle strategy. 'There are many secret entrances, and we will split up into groups and attack from all sides, trapping them inside. Got that?'

There was a sea of nodding, and the soldiers immediately scattered to arm themselves ready for the attack. Arthur turned to Kiluch.

'We're going to creep in quietly and get inside help,' he told the king. Kiluch nodded.

'I'll prepare the army, so we will be ready to go when you return,' he promised, and the he left. Arthur called to Gwen.

'We're going in to see Merlin and Morgana,' he told her, and her face lit up.

'How?'

'There's a passage from just outside the lower town that leads to the armoury,' he explained. We'll sneak through there.'

'In broad daylight?' Gwen asked. Arthur sighed.

'It's our only chance. We can't stay here, camped with over three hundred men. They'll discover us and we'll lose the advantage.'

'Right then,' she said, hefting her sword up. 'Let's go.'

The two of them crept through the overgrown graveyard outside the castle walls, and Arthur quietly levered open the metal grille that he'd stolen the druid boy out of. He had been right- Merlin had left it open.

The tunnels seemed endless, dripping dark holes, the only sound his breathing and fiercely beating heart, both of which were much louder than usual. Gwen said nothing; Arthur glanced at her face and thought that maybe she was afraid at going back to the place where she had experienced such persecution.

'The armoury's just down here,' he whispered, and Gwen nodded. Arthur winced as the secret door creaked open, but nobody came running, so he helped Gwen through and padded softly to the door. It was ajar, and he peeked around into the corridor.

'All clear,' he hissed, but as he made to go out Gwen's hand caught his arm.

'I'll go,' she said quietly, her voice barely making any noise. Arthur began to protest, but she covered his mouth.

'A maid is less likely to be spotted than a man,' she said. 'And anyway, none of them will realize I was the one who escaped. They barely glance at the servants.' Arthur knew her way was right, but he didn't like the idea of letting her go out there alone.

'Just… be careful,' he said, and she smiled.

'I'll be as quick as I can,' she promised, before disappearing round the door. Arthur stood in the dark of the room and waited, his anxiety growing. After what felt like an age, footsteps sounded on the stone floor and Gwen's voiced whispered into the dark.

'Are you still there?'

'Yes,' he muttered back, wondering why she had to ask. Gwen slipped through the doors, and behind her stepped in Morgana. Arthur was surprised at the sight of his half-sister. She looked half-starved, thin as a bone with a protruding collar bone and spindly arms. It felt like hugging a tree as she threw her arms around him, choking out words into his ear.

'We thought you were dead.'

She drew back and Arthur saw Merlin, who, if possible, looked even worse than Morgana. He had never been large, but now he just looked like a skeleton, his eyes drained and lifeless. From a happy young man, full of spirit and laughter, Merlin had aged into a frail old man. He stared at Arthur with a disbelieving blue gaze.

'I thought _you_ were dead,' Arthur said, breaking the moment and gathering up Merlin, or what was left of him, in a hug too.

'You can't get rid of me that easily,' he joked with a shadow of his former cheer, but Arthur knew that this was forced. Despite the momentary joy that had flared in his cobalt eyes, Merlin looked defeated.

'You better have a good reason for coming back,' Morgana told Gwen sternly. 'We told you to stay away!'

'We have an army camped out in the Darkling Woods,' Gwen said excitedly. 'We going to take Camelot back!'

'Really?' Morgana asked, and Gwen nodded, her smile almost falling off her face, it was so large. Morgana turned to Arthur for conformation, and he nodded.

'We'll attack this afternoon,' Arthur said briskly. 'Try and get together as many servants as possible, tell them to find weapons and when the time comes, to fight Erasmus' men.'

'We will,' Morgana said, but then Merlin's voice came out of the darkness in which he stood.

'You'll need a sword,' he said to Arthur, his face calculating. 'One that will ensure your victory.' And with that, he turned towards the tunnel entrance. Morgana hurried after him, grasping a paper-thin hand with her own and beckoning to the others.

'Where are you going?' Arthur demanded, worried for hi friend's sanity and health, but Merlin refused to answer and Morgana shrugged her shoulders.

Merlin led them down the tunnel and out into the graveyard, through the woods, until they reached a lake. It was an idyllic picture; the morning sun shone off the water and the distant white peaks of the mountains. Merlin continued to the shore, and stopped with his feet in the shallows, the small waves lapping at his ankles. Arthur glanced at Gwen, confused and worried. She mirrored his look, but Morgana seemed to know what to do. Taking Merlin's hands, she whispered powerful words and her eyes shone gold, the brilliant colour reflected in Merlin's eyes as his, too, changed from their usual shade.

A snap echoed over the lake's surface, and the metal cuffs that encircled Merlin's thin wrists fell into the water with a splash. Arthur was amazed at this performance of magic, still quite unable to believe that two of his closest friends were sorcerers. But what happened next drove that small miracle from his mind.

Morgana stepped away from Merlin, out of the water, and joined Arthur and Gwen on the bank. Gwen began to ask Morgana what was going to happen, but Morgana shushed her and looked pointedly at Merlin. He had raised his arms and had begun to speak in a harsh, yet beautiful language, which rung in Arthur's ears and stirred his soul. The wind began to pick up, blowing harder and faster until it centred in a whirlwind in the middle of the lake, whipping up the water into a column. The water swirled in the air as Merlin chanted, and then his eyes shone bright and his voice grew louder, until at last, the spell ended. Then he spoke in English, quietly whispering the words.

'I have come to ask the favour you gave me, Freya. You know what I need.'

Arthur could make no sense of this statement, but the column of water began to take the shape of a girl. She walked, or glided over the flat glassy surface of the once-turbulent water, until she stood in front of Merlin. She reached up a silver hand and caressed his thin face, a shining tear slipping from her eye and sliding down her cheek to join the water in her neck.

She said nothing, but reached forward and kissed him, lightly, before reaching down and lifting and armful of water. She placed it in his rams, and the water fell away to reveal a sword, which shone in the light. Even from behind Merlin, Arthur could see it was a good sword- well made and with good balance. The girl stepped away from Merlin, her hands dropping to her sides.

'Freya… I…' Merlin began, but she shook her head and smiled softly, before the water holding her shape together lost the strange power that kept it suspended and dropped back into the lake with a resounding splash. Merlin stood in the water, holding the sword in his arms, until Morgana gently took his arm and led him out. He handed the sword to Arthur.

'This is Excalibur,' he said, his voice wavering. 'It was forged for you by the great dragon, and has been retrieved from the lake by Freya, who died at your hand.'

'I… killed her?' Arthur asked, confused. The girl had obviously meant something to Merlin, and Arthur was sure he would never have done something like that to his friend. And he couldn't remember ever killing a pretty girl like Freya. Maybe it hadn' come back from his memory loss.

'She was the Bastet,' Merlin said. Then Arthur realised. She had been the druid girl who turned into the man-eating panther with wings. And Merlin had been the one to set her free…

'I'm sorry, Merlin,' he began, but he shook his head.

'I forgave you long ago, and so did she,' he said. Then he glanced at Morgana, who stood beside him, clasping his hand. 'And I am no longer alone.' And then he held out Excalibur for Arthur to take. He grasped the handle, and the sword was just as perfect as it had looked. A jolt of power rushed up his arm, and he felt strong enough to defeat and army.

'Thank you, Merlin,' he said, and he nodded.

'We should get back to the castle,' Morgana worried, and they strode off quickly, after promising to rouse the servants to rebellion. Arthur walked slowly over to the lake and waded in until the water covered his feet.

'Thank you, Freya,' he said. 'I'm sorry.'

_You must return the sword to me before your death, _said a voice in his head. _Throw it into the lake and I will catch it. Remember that, Arthur Pendragon, and I give you my blessing._

He didn't know how long he stood with the cold water wetting his feet until Gwen gently led him away back to the camp, ready to prepare the soldiers. It was almost time to attack.

He divided the groups and described the way in to the group leader. He led the main group, which contained Gwen, Olwen, Kiluch and Ollie, along with several other knights.

'The passageway we'll go through leads right to the main throne room,' he told them. 'From there we can kill Murune quickly and reclaim Camelot.' The others nodded.

'Remember, secrecy is the key. Be very quiet!' he raised his voice to shout to the other groups.

They snuck to the castle walls. The bandits on the crumbling battlements were drunk and disorderly-it was no issue to dispatch them and move into the secret tunnel. Arthur crept silently along, Gwen breathing down his neck. Voices came into hearing; the tunnel turned abruptly and they looked down onto the throne room from a small hole by the chandelier.

'Shhh,' Arthur said, and they all peered down, watching the scene below them.

'How did you escape from the castle?' Murune spat in Morgana's face, as he held up her head by her hair. She remained defiantly silent, and Murune slapped her forcefully, sending her spinning away across the floor. A cry of outrage came from the crowd- Merlin burst through and knelt down by Morgana's limp form, his face the picture of anger and vengeance.

'Have you not had enough lashes, boy?' Murune said, and Merlin snarled at him, lifted his arms and his eyes shone gold. But all that happened was that the newly returned handcuffs also shone, and he collapsed by Morgana, breathing heavily. Arthur stiffened, but Gwen's hand on his arm stopped him from bursting through the ceiling too early.

'You will pay for this, Murune,' Merlin's voice was strong, despite him being the thinnest Arthur had every seen. He looked like a breath of wind would blow him over.

'It's King to you,' Murune smiled, and he nodded to Gethed. The sorcerer shot something like lightening at Merlin, who fell again, screaming in agony. Morgana held him and shot a murderous look at Murune, who just laughed. But that mirth died on his face as the warning bell started to ring.

'Damn,' Arthur swore, and then, 'now! He yelled. The trapdoor in the ceiling was flung open by Ollie and they all dropped into the centre of the Throne room, into which their knights were pouring from all the other entrances.

'Murune!' Arthur bellowed, as all the bandits drew their swords. 'Surrender now or we will attack!'

'Arthur!' Merlin shouted, his voice overjoyed, and his joy did what his anger could not- the chains around his wrists fell off and he flexed his arms, free at last.

'Surrender? I don't think so,' Murune smirked, and the two sides attacked. Arthur immediately engaged Murune in a fight to the death, bringing all his sword skills he was capable of. Morgana and Merlin both turned on Gethed, who had tried to help Erasmus. Gethed stood no chance against Merlin, let alone both he and Morgana, in a battle of magic, and he soon fell under their strength. Then they turned their combined power against the bandits, and one by one they fell.

'I will avenge my father,' Arthur grunted to Murune, as they fought.

'You will die!' he spat, as he parried a blow, his face twisted in hate. He forced Arthur back, and the Prince tripped on a dead body. He fell heavily and his sword flew out of his hand. He looked up into the mad eyes of Murune. Murune drew back his sword a maniacal grin on his face.

'I will finish the line of the Pendragons and I will be the true heir at last!' he crowed, as he plunged his sword down. Arthur couldn't roll out of the way, couldn't move, and simply watched his death fall towards him. But halfway through the swing Murune stopped, his face constricting in pain, as a sword protruded though his chest. The sword was withdrawn and Murune fell to the side, dead. Behind him stood Gwen, who was panting heavily, but fiercely determined. She held a hand to Arthur, who took it and she hoisted him up.

'Thanks,' he said, and she nodded.

'I needed to get my revenge,' she said. She glanced down at the body, and the bloody sword, which Arthur saw was Excalibur. 'It doesn't feel as good as I expected.' Without warning she began to cry. Arthur held her as the last of the bandits fell around them at the end of Kiluch's swords.

* * *

Calm fell over Camelot as the dust settled. The battle was over, but happiness had not yet come. They piled all the bandit's bodies in the courtyard and burnt them, the huge pillar of smoke rising high above the turrets. The stormy sky remained, and so did the dead fields. It would be a lot of work to restore the kingdom, Arthur knew, and he knew he would not be able to do it alone.

Arthur and Gwen looked over the devastated Kingdom from the highest turret. He turned to Gwen, who looked tired, but victorious. The dust on her face and the blood on her dress did not detract her beauty, and Arthur knelt down beside her. She looked down at him, startled.

'Gwen?' he asked, tentatively.

'Yes?' she asked softly.

'Will you be my Queen? I don't have much to offer you, just what you see,' he said, gazing out at the ruined Camelot, but she smiled through her tears.

'I don't care. Yes, I will,' she said, and she pulled him up into a kiss.

They broke away eventually, when they heard voices below them. They peered over the battlements and saw Merlin and Morgana on a turret below them.

'We survived,' Merlin was saying.

'I knew we would,' Morgana said, tapping her head. 'I dreamt of freedom, and my dreams have a tendency of coming true.'

'What else have you dreamt?' Merlin asked, smiling and drawing her closer to him.

'Gwen and Arthur will marry, Camelot will be restored, everything will end happily ever after,' she said, happily. 'Oh, and this.'

She reached up and kissed him, and he pulled her closer, but Gwen and Arthur stared in amazement as the light that swirled around them at the point of contact. The golden storm built up, swirling around the embracing pair until it got so great it suddenly spread out across the castle. Where it touched, the castle was repaired. It flowed across the fields, restoring the soil and growing crops. It mixed into the stormy sky and turned it light, until the sun shone down strongly on Camelot. Others in the castle and in the lower town stared at the shining couple, as the golden magic retracted back to them and disappeared as they broke apart.

Arthur and Gwen were dumbstruck as the couple below hugged.

'There's the happily ever after I've been waiting for,' they heard Morgana say beneath them, and Arthur had to agree.

He was crowned as king the following day, and his first act was to invite the Rowan's to live in the castle. They refused, wanting to stay at their farm, but they often came for visits.

He married Gwen a year later. Merlin and Morgana never married, but remained together. Everything seemed to be perfect, and Merlin felt that his destiny was suitably completed.

But Morgana knew that everything had only just begun.

One night she stood on the highest turret, surveying Camelot below her. Her dreams were a curse she wished she could end. But it was too late. They had shown her her future.

Lancelot would break apart Gwen and Arthur. She and Merlin would become mortal enemies. Arthur would die in his thirties. Merlin would be cursed with eternal life.

She ignored the dreams, the foreboding images her mind showed her. Her love for Merlin would not change, she promised herself. She would not fall into the trap she had foreseen. Everything would stay the same. She promised herself this, before going back inside to Merlin's waiting arms, and so she missed the galloping horse coming down the road to Camelot.

Lancelot was coming.


End file.
